The Time Factor

By Chester Campbell

Time is money, time is ripe, time flies, time hangs heavy—our lexicon is filled with references to time. How does time figure in the writing of a mystery novel, other than the obvious fact that it takes a long time to write one?

Some family sagas cover several generations over many years. A tightly-plotted thriller make take place in one day, or a matter of hours. The important thing about time is to use it wisely. Let the story take place over whatever period of time is necessary, but don’t stretch it out just to fill pages.

It is also important to use time realistically. I just finished reading The Da Vinci Code. I had seen comments over the years about how the time frame didn’t add up. I didn’t go back and try to tally how many hours the story covered, but the characters did a lot of moving all around Paris and environs in a matter of hours, then flew to England, toured various parts of London, then drove to Scotland. I don’t recall them doing any sleeping and little if any eating during all that time.

The nonstop action is what made the book such a hit (plus all the religious controversy), but the use of time was a bit bewildering. I usually jot down a chronological list of what happens from day to day so I can keep the time line in order. Dan Brown must have worked with a spring-wound clock that was winding down.

The calendar is essentially a timing device, filled with 24-hour blocks. Another time factor that can have an important effect on your book is the season. My Greg McKenzie mysteries take place roughly four months apart, so each occurs in a different season. Number 5 is back to winter. This changing of the seasons provides an opportunity to picture the scene differently in each story.

My new book, as yet unfinished, takes place around Christmas with nippy winds and freezing temperatures. The previous story was set during the steamy days of August. Quite a contrast in describing the scene.

Whether you’re dealing with the clock or the calendar, time can have a major impact on your story. As with all the other elements of writing a mystery, the major caution is to keep it realistic. Don’t try to cram too much into one day or stretch it out like a long siesta on the beach beneath a broiling sun. You’ll get burned with either choice.

A Demon Called Time

By Chester Campbell

My in-house (meaning in computer) dictionary lists the first definition of demon as “An evil supernatural being.” As for time, how about this: “A nonspatial continuum in which events occur in apparently irreversible succession from the past through the present to the future.” Does that sound supernatural, or what?

As for evil, the darned thing resists all efforts to pin it down to accommodate my needs.

I’ve never had a problem with what is familiarly known as “writer’s block.” Lately I’ve been wondering about it, however, since my efforts at writing a new book for the past couple of months or more has produced less than 20,000 words. After further reflection, I’ve concluded it’s that old demon time.

Yesterday I sat myself down and firmly laid out the law: you will write for four hours a day, period. Maybe 9:00 to 11:00 in the morning, then 1:00 to 3:00 in the afternoon. So I wrote last night from about 7:00 to 9:00.

Hmm, something doesn’t sound quite right here.

It is now 1:00 p.m. today (Tuesday) and I have yet to boot up my laptop, where said book resides. The first problem was I didn’t shuffle out of bed until nine o’clock. The previous morning we were up at 3:00 a.m. ready to take our grandson to the emergency room coughing his head off (at least it seemed to be rolling around the bed). After considerable discussion and administering a last-ditch pill, we finally got him settled down, but the night’s sleep was hopelessly muddled.

By the time we were navigating this morning, two more moppets (my wife’s great-grandkids) had arrived for the day, being on Fall Break from the next county’s schools. I checked my email, answered a couple of pressing messages, and was just getting started writing this blog when the time arrived (there’s that old demon) to shuttle everybody over to a relative’s apartment so Sarah and I could meet grandson’s teachers for a conference.

Now I’m about to take a lunch break. If I’m lucky, I’ll get this finished and posted in time to spend a couple of hours writing on my novel. But first I need to hit the bank and the post office. By the time I’m done with a brief writing session, Sarah will be calling me to eat before heading for my bimonthly writers group meeting. After that, I’ll be checking homework until time for the ten o’clock news (and the recorded 5:30 national news, which lasts little more than 20 minutes after zapping commercials). Then it’ll be bedtime.

I remember back years ago when I thought retirement would bring time to accomplish whatever needed to be done in a relaxed environment. Boy, was I misguided in my thinking. Now I can’t imagine how I was ever able to hold down a fulltime job. I read about authors who get up at 5:00 a.m. and write for three hours before going to work. If I did that, I would have to compensate by taking a three-hour nap in the afternoon.

Hmm. I may do that anway.

But I have to finished this blog and get it posted. Oh, well, maybe the answer is to do like Tim Hallinan, head for Phnom Penh, plunk down my laptop in a coffee shop, and write till I’m finished. Somehow I don’t think that’s in the cards.

It’s now past 1:30. Where did that old demon go?

Time

By Mark W. Danielson

Time is finite, and there’s never enough of it. With the exception of flying a two-day trip, I’ve been home for three weeks, and yet during that period, I have failed to accomplish all that I intended. When people ask what I’ll do when I retire from FedEx, I smile and reply that I’ll enjoy spending more time with my wife, writing, painting, playing on the lake, flying for pleasure, building and then rebuilding things, and most of all, engaging life. It’s the only way to live because we never know how much time we have left. I was reminded of that this morning when I learned that a co-worker's son died yesterday from meningitis--after falling ill four days earlier. He was a Naval Academy student, and lived a mere two decades. No doubt we can all attest that life isn’t fair.

During my time off, I completed the first draft of my next manuscript, painted five paintings, and performed countless tasks around the house. During breaks, Lyne and I walked nearly every day, enjoying a beautiful Colorado Indian Summer. I cherish the time Lyne and I have together because in the end, it’s the quality of my time that matters, not how many jobs I complete.

Tonight I start another two-week round-the-world trip; this time flying eastbound via Paris, Delhi, Shanghai, buzz around the Far East for a few days, then back to Anchorage and home. I look forward to getting airborne again, seeing a world without borders. I also look forward to having the time to edit my manuscript. A few long layovers should allow me to get through it before I return. But I’ll also regret missing Thanksgiving. You see, Thanksgiving in Japan isn’t the same as being at home with family, but that’s my life as a gypsy pilot. Then again, such disappointments help inspire believable protagonists. After all, aren’t we all a bit conflicted at times?

I should point out that there is another artist with the same name, but unlike him, I don’t sell my work. Although I’ve been painting my entire life, I’ll wait until I retire before pursuing that career. In the mean time, I’ll enjoy creating memorable works for my family members at Christmas—another holiday that I’m likely to miss. Regardless, so long as I enjoy living each day to its fullest, regardless of where in the world I am, time will always be on my side.